


Loose Screws

by thesometimeswarrior



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Ficlet, Ford Pines is Not Okay, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post Episode: s02e12 A Tale of Two Stans, Pre-Episode: s02e13 Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26400289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesometimeswarrior/pseuds/thesometimeswarrior
Summary: The first screw Ford unscrews strikes him like a flagellation.Ford dismantles the portal.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	Loose Screws

The first screw Ford unscrews strikes him like a flagellation. 

It’s easier than it might have been, he supposes, given that Stanley made such a mess of things and the portal is already on the ground from the exaggerated gravitational anomalies he caused—not quite in a heap, and not quite yet in shambles, but no longer _whole_ either. That’s likely another thing Stanley would demand a _thank you_ for if he had any idea of anything—bumbling his way into beginning the process of dismantling his brother’s _life’s work._

Well, Stanley will get no thanks from him—not for wrecking _another_ project on which he worked _so hard_ , not for restarting the portal and creating a rift which Bill will already be scheming for a way to get his hands on, and not for pushing Ford into the multiverse in the first place, all those years ago. And even if it’s easier than it might have been, Ford’s hands shake every time he gets close enough to the remnants of the portal to begin to think about taking it apart.

It’s stupid, _he’s_ stupid, he’s so _stupid_ , because this creation of his genius is _dangerous_ , any moment it remains existent is a moment more than it should, another opportunity for Bill to sink his—or, more likely, someone else’s, some _puppet_ ’s—teeth into it, bring about every nightmare that Ford has dreamed for decades, and one he’s _lived_ in several dimensions for some span of that time. He should do more than unscrew the pieces; he should take a hammer to what’s left of the project, or a _blowtorch_ , melt it down, use the metal to build something _useful_ …

And he should even _want_ that, right? After everything he’s been through because of the portal? Those thirty hellish years that he still cannot quite believe are over? But he doesn’t. Even the mere notion crossing his mind sends spasms into every one of his twelve fingers.

( _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ )

( _Freak_.)

Eventually—and he waits until the middle hours of the night, until he stops hearing movement from the ground floor above him, so as to avoid having to interact with Stanley, or having to explain himself to either of the children—Ford sneaks upstairs to the kitchen, rummages around the cabinets that his brother has cluttered until he locates a bottle of something with which to fill his canteen. Takes a swig. It helps, marginally, to steady his hands, and when he retreats back to the lab, Ford can force his hands still as he approaches the portal. 

He doesn’t smash it, or melt it. It’s altogether a more gingerly affair. He takes a screwdriver and carefully begins to deconstruct. 

(It’s his _life’s work_ , this is all he _has—had_ —to show for _years_ of work, for his whole life…)

Ford grits his teeth. Takes another swig from his canteen. Grips the screwdriver tighter.

Another screw. 

(Freak, freak, _freak_.)

Another swig. Another screw.

(He’s a freak, he’s _Weird_ , he’s always been Weird, and for so long he’d thought…if he could just uncover the secret…a Unified Theory of Weirdness…if he could just _solve_ the mystery…if he could just _solve_ …)

Swig. Screw.

(He _had_ solved it—or Bill had made him think so—had deduced, has _seen_ where it all—where all the Weirdness originated. Ford’s _seen_ it, was trapped there for decades, and they’re hellish, those dimensions, _dangerous_.)

(He’s _Weird, he’s_ …)

Swig Screw Swig Swig Swig...

He’s—it’s, the portal is _dangerous_. He has to stop it from hurting anyone else. It doesn’t matter than it was his life’s work, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter…It’s dangerous. It’s dangerous. It’s, he’s dangerous…dangerous, dangerous, dangerous…

By the time the morning comes, Ford’s canteen is empty, and his hands are numb from their ever-tighter grip on the screwdriver, but the portal is deconstructed, sits in neat pieces stacked along the sides of the room. 

And if looking at it drudges a sob up from whatever part of him still has the capacity for it—well, he’s alone down here. No one in the family will ever have to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. I love comments!


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